aid _I_ was so--and would add, with truth,
As undeservedly as _you_.

_Wer._ Again!
As _I_?

_Gab._ Or any other honest man.
What the devil would you have? You don't believe me
Guilty of this base theft?

_Wer._ No, no--I cannot. 20

_Gab._ Why that's my heart of honour! yon young gallant--
Your miserly Intendant and dense noble--
All--all suspected me; and why? because
I am the worst clothed, and least named amongst them;
Although, were Momus'[186] lattice in your breasts,
My soul might brook to open it more widely
Than theirs: but thus it is--you poor and helpless--
Both still more than myself.

_Wer._ How know you that?

_Gab._ You're right: I ask for shelter at the hand
Which I call helpless; if you now deny it, 30
I were well paid. But you, who seem to have proved
The wholesome bitterness of life, know well,
By sympathy, that all the outspread gold
Of the New World the Spaniard boasts about
Could never tempt the man who knows its worth,
Weighed at its proper value in the balance,
Save in such guise (and there I grant its power,
Because I feel it,) as may leave no nightmare
Upon his heart o' nights.

_Wer._ What do you mean?

_Gab._ Just what I say; I thought my speech was plain: 40
You are no thief--nor I--and, as true men,
Should aid each other.

_Wer._ It is a damned world, sir.

_Gab._ So is the nearest of the two next, as
The priests say (and no doubt they should know best),
Therefore I'll stick by this--as being both
To suffer martyrdom, at least with such
An epitaph as larceny upon my tomb.
It is but a night's lodging which I crave;
To-morrow I will try the waters, as
The dove did--trusting that they have abated. 50

_Wer._ Abated? Is there hope of that?

_Gab._ There was
At noontide.

_Wer._ Then we may be safe.

_Gab._ Are _you_
In peril?

_Wer._ Poverty is ever so.

_Gab._ That I know by long practice. Will you not
Promise to make mine less?

_Wer._ Your poverty?

_Gab._ No--you don't look a leech for that disorder;